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Seek some form of right-mindedness or feeling of normalcy from binge watching a favorite tv show, New Girl is a definite no-go.

Depression is one hell of a roller coaster ride. Saturday came along, and I finally convinced myself to clean my house. Well, at least half-way cleaned my house. I started having a breakdown around 5pm, sobbed as I ate a 2 day old taco, not because I was hungry but because I just needed to eat something, bought three 24 oz cheap beers, downed them so I got a little drunk, and watched New Girl until I passed out next to my dog in her bed sometime between 9p and 11p.

My friend and roommate came home. I heard her rustling around and I woke up, puked in the toilet, cried to her about my dog’s possible IVDD until about 1am, all the while asking “who cries like this over a dog?” (I am very overwhelmed with all of the financial aspects of this that I cannot afford.) Then I went out and bought a frozen pizza, ate about a slice, canceled plans I had with my friend on Sunday, and went to sleep until 1:16p. I woke up, forced myself into the shower, wandered about the house in my underwear while I finished the rest of my pizza, and somehow managed to get dressed and get myself to work.

Today is Monday, and I managed to get out of bed at 11a. I am proud of myself for that. My friend cooked for me and made coffee, which I very much appreciate, and it helps out so much in times like this. The shower I took felt a little less forced than yesterday, which is good. I even feel like taking some vitamins today- fish oil and vitamin D, because maybe it’ll help… or at least maybe I can convince myself it’s helping.

Depression is one hell of a roller coaster ride. And I have this theory that my family is meant to falter, as if these overbearing mental health problems are in my bloodline, and we are all just set up to constantly fall on our asses. Never really obtaining our deepest wants or needs in life. Never making it to the top.

But I’ll get there…

I am getting there…

New Girl didn’t help solve any of my problems, but I woke up at 11a today.

Like this:

All I want to do is create.
My passion,
I hope to use one day to ease this financial burden,
I didn’t ask for.
Although, this means so much more,
Than making a living.

My soul is crying out.
Pieces of me are dying,
Every day that I waste time NOT writing.

And this generation,
Said to be more self-centered than those that came before us.
We have the Renaissance.
The scientific revolution.
The age of enlightenment.
We have the signing of our constitution.
And yet another revolution.
Industrial.

That last one,
You must have learned about in high school.
But let’s not get too ancestral.
I know it’s easily forgotten,
When your mind is overflowing,
With the opinions of other men and women.

After all,
The key lies in modernization…

So what do we have now?
The social media era?

And what will come of all that has begun?

When all you have is 140 characters,
And if you say too much,
No one will want to read it.

Every word I write,
I fucking bleed it.
But if it ain’t a selfie,
A text from a fuckboy,
Or a cute cat video…
This generation doesn’t see it.
They don’t need it.

But my dreams will not be jaded.
This fire within me will never die.
An attempt to extinguish it,
Will leave me feeling suffocated.
So this hunger I have,
I must feed it.

And one day I’ll be able to say, “I made it.”
There’s no doubt about that,
It’s for this day I live,
And I WILL obtain it.

And half of those I know right now,
Will see my posts and probably scowl,
“This is too long, I won’t read it.”

*Side note: In case you were wondering, yes, “When your mind is overflowing with the opinions of other men and women” is totes stolen from Sherwood Anderson’s “his mind filled to overflowing with the words of other men.”

A few things:
1: I don’t normally do this sort of thing. (Ya know, plagiarize dead people.)
2: I just REALLY love the quote.
3: I don’t think he’ll mind…

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She lies down with her new lover. The air is damp, her skin sticky. The space between her inner thighs is a sweltering mix of sweat and cum. The sun beaming in through the side window has her feeling feverish, but she doesn’t want to close the blinds. Bright sun rays highlight her lovers face; revealing every line, every newest wrinkle and fold, every unruly blemish. She wants to take every delicate imperfection, turn them inside out, and etch them into her brain so the memory of this moment will never leave her.

She’s been waiting for this day for two unbearably long months. Been saving herself; something that is typically very difficult for London to do. She is somewhat of a hedonist. She believes that pleasure and happiness in life are the absolute most important things. For her, if you aren’t enjoying yourself and your personal needs are not thoroughly satisfied, then life would be meaningless. Not being able to seek out and obtain the world’s greatest pleasures, would mean living a life of pure and profound misery.

Amari left for New York just a handful of days after they met, where she landed a modeling gig with a home décor’ magazine. Amari never experienced any difficulty landing gigs; she was stunning, fierce, and competitive. This particular job was incredibly important to her because her partnership with Central Living would help raise money for homeless LGBTQ+ youth in New York City. It was one and a half months of work, and two weeks’ vacation time at the beach to reward herself.

London couldn’t wait for her to return so she could personally reward her. Two full months of not having the freedom to calm her raging desire to orgasm have been torture. She’s hungry for Amari, desperate. She wants nothing more than to rip her clothes off and feel the entirety of her body beneath her kiss, to taste the salt from her skin, to be completely consumed by her essence. The fact that Amari is now spread out in bed with her natural beauty illuminating in the sunlight, makes it nearly impossible for London to maintain her composure. She has no doubt that Amari is just as eager. She must be playing some game, seeing how long London can hold out until she makes the first move, before she loses all control. London realizes this actually gives her the upper hand; knowing it would take the simplest gesture for their suppressed desires to erupt into every corner of that room.

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She was the kind of lost and broken people don’t like to talk about
My family was the kind of fucked up people don’t want to think about

You see, my father tore right through her
You see, my mother chose to discredit and blame her
You see, she made sure no one could ever really understand her

I see shadows out of the corner of my eye
A reminder of the necessities in life
Food, water, oxygen
Love

How can a mother love a child, while allowing a man to constantly invade her?

“Child, you’re lying…
Child, you just want to stir up trouble…
Child, I will not leave him for you…
So child, just stop trying…
Child…”

When I was a child, she tried to kill herself
Because our mother destroyed her
Spirit
And she only wanted to be where her soul lie

When I visited her in the hospital, the very next day
I pleaded with her
“Please, don’t ever leave me.”
And when I was grown, she told me I had saved her

And when I was a child, she wanted to protect me
She laid my head on her lap, ran her hands through my hair
Put me fast to sleep

And when I was a child, I used to crawl into daddy’s bed
The form of love and affection he used to show me
Was the only one I had ever known
Until my sister ran her hands through my hair
And saved me

And lately I have been decluttering my life
As if organization is directly linked to clarity
As if I can delete enough files on my computer
Or throw away enough useless shit in my apartment
Things will start making sense

You see, I used to watch her beat her children
You see, I used to lecture her about housing her drug dealers
You see, I told her she couldn’t escape the past
You see, she told me I always acted like I was superior
When I was only trying to help her
You see, she tried to kill me, twice

So I left her alone

And a year ago she called me, I let it go to voicemail
And in the faint cracks of her voice
And in the words not spoken
I could sense her desperation
But I never returned her call

And in a fit of rage, I broke that phone
So I didn’t have to hear her

And three weeks ago I fell asleep, listening to a song that sparked distant memories
And I had a dream-
She stood in front of me
Her face bright, her smile radiant
A version of her, that had never before existed
She spoke to me
“I am alive.”

And I knew she finally met up with where her soul lie

And you see
There is no term for the complicated grief I am experiencing
Because you see, she was the kind of woman
That ought not to be looked up to

But she was my FOUNDATION
A pure heart
Not to be defined by her actions

And I see shadows out of the corner of my eye
And I can still feel her hands running through my hair